Older and Far Away
by I Took the One Less Travelled
Summary: Shameless The Angels Take Manhattan fix-it, thanks to Bad Wolf. Rose saves Amy and Rory from the weeping angel with her awesome powers. Ten II/Rose, Eleven/Rose, Eleven/River, Amy/Rory.


"Why are we always back in this graveyard?" Amy asked, looking around.

"Does it matter?" The Doctor questioned. "As long as we're all safe. Don't you ever do that to me again!" He added, throwing himself forward to envelope both of his Ponds into a hug. He felt Amy and Rory turn their heads and meet eyes behind his back, probably to give each other a long-suffering, indulging look. "You scared me. I could have lost you."

River appeared behind them, brandishing a water bucket and some cleaning supplies—presumably cleaning up the fire extinguisher fluid from when the TARDIS had lit up when the Doctor had been attempting to land in 1938. "Could do with a repaint," she hinted, arching a brow at him.

"I've been busy," he whined defensively, shifting under her indulgent gaze.

"Does the bulb need changing?" River asked.

"Just changed it," the Doctor said proudly. And he _was_ proud, that he had managed to change the bulb without using one of those blue bulbs or something—he might've appreciated it, but his sexy time machine had made it very clear that she would not.

"So. Rory and Amy, then," River said conversationally, prompting some sort of explanation. She knew that he had brought them home, that he had put them someplace safe.

"Yes. I know, I know," he said sheepishly.

"I'm just saying. They're going to get terribly bored hanging round here all day," River added.

"Doctor," Rory called, further away from the TARDIS. The Doctor didn't turn to him, occupied with River for the moment.

"Ha!" He said instead.

"Look, next time, could we could just go to the pub?" Rory continued.

"I want go to the pub right now. Are there video games there? I love video games," the Doctor whined. Damn Rory Pond for getting him all hungry!

"Right. Family outing, then," River decided aloud, sounding very amused. He held up an arm to her, indicating that she should precede him into the TARDIS. Outside, Rory called something to Amy, but he didn't hear.

He _did_, however, notice the gold light that was suddenly permeating the graveyard. River, who had been facing him, gaped over his shoulder as he turned around. And there was an angel, another one, obviously one that had escaped the paradox, fingers less than an inch from Rory's back, frozen in the golden light that bathed the graveyard. And less than five feet from Amy, Rory and the angel was a very familiar girl, also bathed in light. Surrounded by it, in fact.

He choked. "Rory, Amy, move away," he ordered, stepping out of the TARDIS. "Rose."

She turned to him and smiled, grimacing slightly—obviously, the vortex wasn't painless as it chorused through her mind. "Rose, what are you doing?" He asked, trying not to lose control, to remain calm. "We've done this before—you'll die."

"I'm fine," she said, wincing. "I'll _be_ fine, at any rate. It isn't going to hurt me."

"Are you _kidding_ me?" He demanded, giving in to the urge to bolt straight to her side. "You'll burn!"

"Doctor," she said sharply. "I'll be fine, because this isn't really happening. Not for me. When it's over, I'll go back across the walls. But sometimes, I dream about things. About you."

"Doctor, who is she?" Amy demanded, eyeing the angel, him and Rose with confusion.

The Doctor laughed bitterly. "Ponds, this is Rose Tyler. My..." He grimaced, unable to say the word that came to mind, the end of the sentence. And that was the problem with him, wasn't it? He never could say it—he couldn't tell her. But the word echoed, both he and Rose knowing what it was. _Love_. "Rose, Amelia Pond, Rory—her husband, and their daughter, River."

River approached carefully. "You're Rose Tyler?"

"Yes, I am," Rose said. "And you're River Song." The way that she was looking at River—a mixture of admiration and pity—told him that his duplicate had told her about the library incident. And obviously, he had mentioned Rose to River at some point. He'd have to keep that in mind for when he met a younger version of River.

"Thank you," River murmured. "For all that you've done."

"I could say the same," Rose returned.

River arched a brow. "I'd say that whatever you're thanking me for hasn't happened to me yet," she muttered.

"Right, of course," Rose said. "Your timelines run backwards."

"Rose," the Doctor interrupted this little meeting—something that would have heavily featured in his nightmares, had he ever considered that it was possible (Rose and River meeting each other? And _getting along_? The stuff of horror.) "What happened? How did you get here? What are you doing here?"

"Like I said," she murmured. "I dream of you, sometimes. Because of Bad Wolf. The vortex. And I saw _this_, and I saw how much it would hurt you, so I decided to fix it." She waved her glowing hand in the direction of the angel, and it disintegrated. "There. All fixed."

"But—"

"I dreamed that the angel would touch _him_—Rory, was it? First, and then she would let it touch her so that they could be together. And you couldn't follow them because of all of the paradoxes."

"That's what would've happened," River agreed. "Time is too fragile to cause another paradox right now."

He looked at Rory, then at Amy, and relief flooded through him. He couldn't lose them. He just couldn't. He ignored the voice in his head that said that one day, he would—whether he was ready or not, his Amelia was human. Mortal. She would age and die. She would decay before his eyes.

Shaking off the thought, he turned to the thing that, based on what she had said, he was about to lose right now, this second. Again. For the third time. For some reason, his hearts didn't seem to find it any less painful than they had the first couple.

"Don't go," he pleaded.

Rose smiled slightly, and placed a hand to her temple. "Oh, my Doctor," she breathed. She placed her other hand in his outstretched one, and he laced them together automatically—his hands had always fit perfectly with Rose Tyler's, regardless of which regeneration he was in. "I have to."

"But—"

"I have a life," she said. "A family. A husband, and two beautiful children. Doctor..."

"You promised me forever," he said, unable to stop himself from saying the incredibly unfair words. River, who had exited the TARDIS behind him, smacked him across the back of the head for it.

"Don't you listen to him," River told Rose. "He has no business telling you what you are and are not allowed to need, not after the way that he treated you."

"Ow!" He turned wounded eyes to River, but she jerked her head in Rose's direction. "You promised that you'd never leave me," he begged. "Please."

"You promised that you'd never leave _me_," Rose returned. "Do you remember that? I asked if you were going to do that to me one day, and you said, 'no, not to you.'"

"I was trying to be selfless," he protested.

"And now?"

"I'm so much older," he said without shame. "I don't have selflessness in me anymore. I'm just a selfish old man. And I need you."

"Oh, Doctor," Rose breathed. She extended her free hand, and laid it on his cheek, and like a heroin addict, he leaned into her touch. "You don't need me. Not anymore. You have them—it would have hurt you to lose them. I never want you to hurt."

His tenth incarnation was screaming in his head to send her away from him. Ten was more active in there than he'd been in ages, actually. But he _wasn't_ his tenth incarnation, was no longer the man that had always tried to keep them safe, to keep them away from the destruction that he wreaked. So, instead of sending her away, he said, "You're hurting me now."

"Doctor!" River snapped, sounding appalled. He took that to mean that River was mad at him.

"It's all right," Rose informed River. "Do you remember," Rose said to him. "On a beach in Norway—twice—and I've asked you for three little words. Eight letters. And you asked me if it needed saying."

"Every day," he said, pain running through his tone.

"Well. I can't stay, Doctor, because you gave me away. Because I will never want for you to hurt, but your pain cannot be the centre of my universe anymore. You asked if it needed saying—it doesn't matter if it was needed or not. He said it. He had the strength to tell me, and you didn't. The Donna in him, I'd imagine."

"What if I said it now?"

She smiled, but it was really more of a grimace. And this time, he was sure that it wasn't because of the vortex.

"I'm going to answer your question, Doctor."

"Which?" He asked, bewildered by the subject change.

"Did it need saying? No. I knew. I always knew. Would have been nice to hear it, though."

"Rose Tyler, I..."

"You can't say it," Rose murmured knowingly. "Even now, as I fade before your eyes, you cannot say it. Even if I told you that saying it would make me stay, you can't say it."

"Would you?"

"No," Rose said, brutally honest. "I can't. Everything has its time, Doctor, and everything ends. Our run of the universe—it was amazing, and I wouldn't trade any bit of it for anything. But it has to be over now."

"Please," he reduced to pleading again.

"I have to go. Goodbye, Doctor." She started to fade, the glow going down.

"Wait!"

She solidified again.

"You're wrong, you know. I can."

"Can what?"

"Say it," he said desperately. He wasn't sure why he needed to, in this moment. Except that this truly, and completely was his last chance, and Rose Tyler really was vanishing from him. Forever. And she had given him yet another gift that he couldn't repay. As much as this hurt in this moment, he had been without Rose Tyler for nearly three-hundred years, and he would learn to live without her again. But Amy and Rory, not so much.

"Oh?" She arched a brow at him. Amy and Rory were obviously very confused, but River wasn't. Bafflingly, there wasn't a bit of jealousy in her. Instead, she was snickering delightedly.

"Rose Tyler, I love you," he said deliberately.

She smiled at him. "Quite right, too."

He laughed, a hint of hysteria edging his tone.

"I love you, Doctor. I always will. You know that?" He nodded, and she started to fade again.

"Rose!"

"What?"

"Jack," he gasped, having just thought of it. "Can you fix him?"

She closed her eyes. "No. I can't. Once I'd done what I did—even I can't reverse it. There are things that he needs to do. Messages that he needs to deliver."

"Know this, Time Lord," the Doctor quoted absently. "You are not alone."

"Give him my love if you see him," Rose added.

"I will," he promised. Then he kissed her palm, still in his hand, and watched as she faded from his life in a shower of gold, taking the light with her.

He was overwhelmed with the sudden urge to collapse and sleep for a week, which was interesting because Time Lords didn't need much sleep. But all of his energy was drained, and he just needed to think about her—dream about her, about the future that he had always wished for but known that they could never have.

She was happy, though.

And he still had his Ponds. River very carefully herded him and both of her parents into the TARDIS, and sent him on his way to his bedroom as she explained exactly who Rose Tyler was to Amy and Rory in an undertone.

And he was happy, too. Sad that she was gone, yes, but that wasn't new. But happy that he'd finally told her. Happy that he'd seen her one last time.


End file.
